


Time and the Burglar

by Aida



Series: 30 Day AU Challenge [10]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Angst in one then happy fun times in the next, I'll let you decide, Is it Kilbo?, Or Filibo?, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:46:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aida/pseuds/Aida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two separate fics for the Time Travel prompt in the 30 Day AU Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Old Hobbit

**Author's Note:**

> This little drabble was a bit on the angsty side. Be prepared, is all.

“Don’t let them boss you around.”

“Alright.”

“And when he asks, ‘axe or sword’, try to think of something better than conkers. You used to have a very good aim. Say that.”

“If you say so.”

Bilbo watched as the older hobbit looked around his home, cane clutched tightly in a wrinkly hand, hair snow-white and expression firm.

“One last thing, Bilbo…” The hobbit said. “Do not let fear overcome your desires. Sign the contract. Agree to join them. Do what you can to help and protect them. And… and don’t be afraid to tell him you love him. No matter what, don’t hide your feelings from him. Do not wait for their home to be reclaimed to do so.”

“Who do you speak of?” Bilbo asked.

The old hobbit smiled, and Bilbo saw a deep pain in his eyes. “You will know.”

“But why?” Bilbo asked. “Why not wait? Wouldn’t it be better to not distract them? This quest you speak of… It sounds rather harrying…”

The old hobbit winced, hands flexing on his cane as he pulled his shawl closer to himself. “There is not a happy ending for this quest, Bilbo Baggins.” He told him, voice sounding heavy. “Once you arrive, there will be no time. There will be goldsickness, there will… banishment… War… and death…”

Bilbo’s eyes widened, fearful himself as he saw tears in the hobbit’s eyes that were quickly wiped away. 

“The one we love dies, before we can even say goodbye.” He choked out. “Died protecting his uncle from the orcs. And I… I couldn’t reach them.”

His heart clenched as the old hobbit began to sob. Warily, Bilbo approached him, laying a hand on his delicate shoulder, but it only made him sob harder.

“I only ever learned that he loved me in return from someone else, after their funeral, and I have since lived on with regret.” He continued through his tears. “Neither of us knew if the other felt the same, and while I lived on with this small amount of comfort, he had died without ever knowing.”

Bilbo felt his own eyes water, realizing that such heartache that this old hobbit felt, this older version of himself felt, was also meant for him. 

He did not want this. This clearly brutal pain of a love lost to war.

“What can I do, then?” He asked, voice cracking. “What can I do to stop it?”

The old hobbit looked at him, lips pressed firmly together. “You go, even though I’m sure you’re afraid to now.” He answered. “And you tell him as soon as you seek shelter after facing the pale orc. You do what you can to be happy with him, be there for him, and love him, as _much_ as you can!”

The old hobbit frowned a little, eyes glistening anew. “I do not know if that will change the outcome of that final battle.” He admitted, but he then gripped Bilbo’s hands tightly. “But a friend once told me that even the smallest of things can change the future. It just might, but if not… at least you will have what moments you can together.”

“It doesn’t sound like it’s worth it.” Bilbo admitted.

The old hobbit, the older, wiser Bilbo, smiled at him, despite his pain. 

“Believe me,” He told him. “It is.”

**xxx**

Bilbo stared up at the ceiling, thinking of his life and how it had changed after he had met the old hobbit.

He had followed his words, and was prepared for almost every odd turn that happened the moment Gandalf had arrived. He didn't let the dwarves walk over him, making sure they washed their hands before they moved to the dining room to eat. He spoke of his aim and his skill with "other blades" (really his kitchen knives), instead of speaking of his skill with nuts. He earned their respected, their trust. Even Thorin had warmed up to him by the time they had reached Rivendell, and not after they faced the pale orc, as the old hobbit claimed.

He even fell in love, and he made sure to tell him once they had reached a home belonging to a skin-changer. 

Indeed, the old hobbit was right on a many number of things, including the latter, but so was his friend.

They had survived. All of them had. Even _he_ survived, even though he was worse for wear. He didn't think he would ever be more grateful. 

So much had happened since that battle. He collected his belongings from the Shire and moved them to Erebor, where he had agreed to stay. He gave his home to his least-hated cousin, and got married not long after his affairs were sorted. 

Said cousin died, as did his wife, and he took in the child that was left behind.

Bilbo looked at them, now. At his beloved husband, though scarred, was still as handsome as he ever was. At Frodo, who had grown fearful of the thunderstorm that had rolled passed, and who was currently lying between them.

He was lucky, truly. Luckier than his other self was, at least. He had hoped, however, that what he had done had changed his future as well. 

He hoped the old hobbit finally had peace.

"Evening, Uncle Bilbo."

Said hobbit shot up at the voice, eyes wide as he saw a hobbit sitting in a chair nearby. He was pale, sullen, with dark curls and piercing blue eyes. He looked tired, so very tired, but he also looked familiar.

"F-Frodo...?" Bilbo whispered, slowly slipping out of bed.

The hobbit grinned. "I take it this has happened before?"

"Er... something similar, yes..." He admitted, pulling on his housecoat. "What... How... Why are you here?"

Frodo's smile had wavered, if only a hair, and he adjusted himself. "I came to you tonight to warn you of something." He explained.

"Warn me?" Bilbo asked. "Whatever do you need to warn me about, dear boy?"

"Well, Uncle Bilbo..." Frodo muttered, twiddling his thumbs before looking at him again, eyes serious. "I've come to warn you about your old ring..."


	2. The Burglar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gandalf enlists a peculiar man to help Thorin and his Company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was about half done with the previous fic when I started writing this one. 
> 
> I JUST NEEDED A BREAK FROM THE ANGST!

“Gandalf, you never told us where we were going.”

The wizard just smiled down at Thorin, and for some reason, it irritated him further. 

They had been travelling for what felt like weeks, on foot, all the while being led by the gray wizard. He had said he knew of someone to join their quest to reclaim their home. Someone mysterious person that Gandalf only called “the Burglar”. He didn’t tell him much after that. Only that he was seemingly very elusive and hard to find. It had impressed the company enough to comply, but it was starting to become so ridiculous that many had wished that they would just go on with their quest without him.

Kíli, one of the few who didn’t seem bothered with this, moved to walk next to him, his brother not far behind.

“Cheer up, Uncle.” He said. “I’m sure we don’t have to go much longer!”

“Kíli-…” Thorin started, only for Gandalf to cut him off.

“Your nephew is correct, Thorin Oakenshield.” He said. “In fact, here we are.”

Thorin’s heart jumped, then promptly plummeted when the woods cleared, revealing an empty patch of grass. 

There were complaints throughout the group, of exhaustion and hunger. Even Kíli looked downtrodden. 

“What is this?” Dwalin demanded. “What games are you playing with us?”

“Give it some time.” Gandalf insisted. “We’re a little early, but he should be here any moment now.”

“Enough!” Thorin snapped. “Gandalf, we have trusted you this far, and we have forgiven the secrets you kept, but we can’t do this no longer! You will tell us what we’re doing here, or I’ll-!”

He stopped, cut off by a rather harsh breeze that cut through the clearing. A sound called through the forest then, a grating, almost metal-like sound. His company cried out their confusion, drawing their weapons, and Thorin made sure that his nephews were close by. 

All the while Gandalf merely held onto his had, smiling.

“What is this!?” Thorin heard Dori cry. “What is this sorcery!?”

“A beast is approaching!”

“No! No, look! Over there!”

They looked, and Thorin froze, eyes widening. In the middle of a clearing, something was flickering to life, as if being born out of thin air. It wavered in and out of sight, growing stronger and more visible each time. Eventually, it settled, and Thorin blinked several times, as if the structure in front of him was an illusion.

It was a house. A rather small one, more like a hut, if anything. But the walls were made of smooth stone painted with bright colors, the roof covered in a layer of lush green grass. Almost as green as the round door it had. 

Said door opened, and they tensed, hearing movement inside.

“Where are we now?” A voice asked form inside. “I don’t believe this is nineteen-sixty-…”

A head popped through then, and Thorin blinked some more. It was a head belonging to a small being, a gentleman, with curly hair, pointed ears, and a smooth face. He blinked his round, green eyes at them before slowly stepping out, and he became even more peculiar. He was dressed in fine trousers and jacket, with a waistcoat glinting with brass buttons. The strangest of all about the man’s appearance, was his lack of shoes on his large, hairy feet.

“Gandalf?” The man asked. “Gandalf, what are you doing here? And oh, who are they?”

“Burglar,” Gandalf greeted. “It’s good to see you again, old friend.”

“That,” Thorin stated blandly, causing the Burglar to look at him. “Is our burglar?”

“Ah-No. No I don’t belong to someone. I’m _the_ Burglar.” The man replied, shutting his door and approaching. “And who might you be?”

“Burglar, may I introduce you to the company. There are Dwalin, Balin, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori, Ori, Fíli, Kíli, and the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.” Gandalf answered, and Thorin watched as the Burglar took all their names in with surprised eyes.

“Well, then. That is a lengthy list.” The Burglar replied. “Such a large group, too. Wherever are you lot off to?”

“Didn’t Gandalf tell you?” Thorin asked, causing the Burglar to frown. 

“I haven’t seen Gandalf since we slayed that jabberwocky. And that was… oh, that was a while back for you, wasn’t it?” The Burglar explained, and Gandalf’s smile broadened.

“Indeed.” He answered. “But now, Burglar, I’ve come here to ask a favor of you.”

“Oh, dear…” The Burglar groused, but there was a smile on his face. “What is it this time?”

“This isn’t really a place to talk about such things.” Dwalin cut in, and the Burglar blinked.

“Oh!” He said, motioning to his hut. “Well, why don’t you come in? I can see you’re all hungry. We can eat and talk business at the same time, though it is dreadful manners.”

Dwalin blinked at the man, motioning towards his small home. “How?”

Thorin watched as the Burglar merely smirked before snapping his fingers, and the company jumped when the door to his small home opened. “Why don’t you go and see for yourself?”

They hesitated, and Thorin was inclined to tell Gandalf “no thank you, we don’t want any”, and walking away. Instead, Kíli took charge and rushed towards the smial.

“Kíli!” He heard Fíli cry after his brother. “Kíli, be careful!”

They paused, waiting for Kíli to say something, and they panicked when they heard him finally let out a loud cry.

“Kíli, hold on!” Fíli cried, rushing towards the smial before Thorin could stop him, only to pause when his youngest nephew emerged, eyes almost wider than his smile.

“Unbelievable!” He shouted, and they watched as he made a quick round on the small home, touching all the walls, before ducking his head back inside.

“It’s amazing!” he continued, laughing as he turned back to the company. “It’s bigger on the inside!”

There was a murmur amongst them, and Thorin was concerned that something inside caused Kíli to hallucinate. He didn’t try to stop Fíli this time as he moved to stand next to his brother, taking a look inside himself.

This time, Fíli’s eyes were wide. “It’s true!” He spoke, as if in awe. “It really _is_ bigger!”

Thorin frowned, for clearly his nephews had lost their minds, and this time, he marched towards the smial, the rest of the company following. 

Instead of looking in, he pushed the door open, only to feel his eyes go wide themselves. For, despite the obvious size of the smial, the space inside was enormous. 

The walls were rounded, made of wood and lined with bright glowing lights and shelves lined with books. He could see the beginnings of winding halls, and saw windows that weren’t even on the outside. In the middle of it all was a winding staircase leading to a bizarre contraption on top, filled with lights, bits of metal, and odd mechanisms that Thorin couldn’t even fathom.

He stepped inside, hearing the others gasp and whisper as his nephews jumped ahead of him, Kíli, jostling Fíli’s arm as he continued to gawk at the unreal surroundings. 

Thorin turned to see the wizard at the door, who was still smiling, and the Burglar inside with them.

“Go on.” The Burglar said, motioning. “I know you want to.”

With that, Thorin dashed out, taking in the entirety of the size of the home, touching the sides and walking around. Trying to make sense of it all. Once he made a full circuit, he peered in briefly before looking out again.

“Bigger on the inside…” He finally concluded before barking a short laugh and rubbing his brow. “I really have gone mad.”

“Nonsense!” The Burglar cried, and Thorin allowed him to lead him back inside, seeing his company branch out and examine their new surroundings. “You don’t look at all mad. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with going at _least_ a little mad. If we didn’t, life wouldn’t be exciting, now would it?”

The Burglar winked, he actually had the audacity to _wink_ , before looking up at Gandalf. “So, what’s this business you need to talk to me about?”

“In due time, old friend, in due time.” The wizard replied, hanging his hat and cloak up as if it wasn’t his first time inside the strange place. “But first, I believe you promised food?”

“Oh, yes! Where are my manners!” The Burglar cried before clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Gentleman, ladies, and whoever is in between, the baths are down this hall. Wash up, and then meet back in the dining hall, which is down _that_ way! You will have plenty of food and drink there!”

Thorin watched as his company followed the Burglar’s instructions, all the while taking in their surroundings with awe on their face. He didn’t even think Dwalin’s mouth could be so wide as Balin had to tug him along.

“So,” The Burglar spoke quietly, and Thorin turned towards them. “What will this entail?”

Gandalf grinned, all mischief. “It will probably entail an adventure.”

“Oo, an adventure.” The Burglar whispered, and Thorin watched as his face light up with glee. “I can always go for another one of those!”

Kíli, still grinning and a little breathless, diverted to join them. “This place is amazing!” He repeated, and Thorin watched the Burglar smile at him. 

“I’m glad, Mister Kíli.” He replied, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “You know, there aren’t many people who are as excited as you are when they see it.”

“I don’t know why! I mean, look at it!” 

As Kíli yammered on, the Burglar turned to Thorin, and really, he needed to stop winking.

“Welcome to Bag End.”

**Author's Note:**

> Up next: HOGWAAAAAARTS!!!


End file.
